


He Shoots, He Scores

by xCrossbonesx (StarSpangledBucky)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Banter, First Meetings, Fluff, Food Poisoning, Foot rubs, Getting Together, HYDRA Husbands, Hockey, Hurt/Comfort, Jack Loves His Reality TV, M/M, Mentions Of Hospital Deaths, Nurse Brock, Sickfic, Spooning, hockey player jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 01:51:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12098100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSpangledBucky/pseuds/xCrossbonesx
Summary: Jack has the misfortune of getting food poisoning on the day of his date with Brock. Luckily for him, Brock is a decent guy and insists that he stays with Jack for the night. Jack thinks he might be a little bit in love with him already.





	He Shoots, He Scores

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kalika_999](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/gifts).



> Happy belated birthday to my lovely best friend Candace (kalika_999)!  
> I'm what...5 days late? That ain't so bad. I hope you like it :D  
> Also, thanks for being awesome and supportive whenever I'm feeling 'meh' about my work. Love you :3 <3 lol
> 
> (Warning here for Brock mentioning the death of a kid he tried saving while working at the hospital, but I have also put that in the tags)

          

* * *

 

His symptoms started in the early hours of the morning; abdominal cramps and a slight bout of nausea, which roused him from his sleep. They were only mild, barely troubling Jack enough to prevent him from getting ready for practice at the rink. He took a painkiller for extra measure before he left and the nausea wore off by the time he left his house. Unfortunately, a painkiller didn’t prevent the symptoms from recurring later into the morning.

He was skating across the rink, hitting pucks into the net while getting badgered by Bucky about his date. But as much as Jack had wanted to talk about it, he was too busy focusing on the sudden sensation of feeling too warm in his gear. Getting rid of his sweater helped for a short time before the chills began, followed by sweating. Jack had to slip the helmet off his head, hand pressed against his burning forehead which then started to shake.

“Jack? Are you okay?” Bucky asked.

“I dunno’.”

“You don’t look good,” he said.

Bucky sidled up to him, resting his hand on Jack’s back as he stood hunched over, the abdominal cramps hurting greater than they had in the morning. Jack felt uneasy on his feet, his stomach tying in knots when a wave of nausea hit him again, yet this time rising to his throat where he felt like his basic breakfast of cereal with fruit was coming back up.

“Bucky I need a bucket,” he murmured, clapping his hand over his mouth.

Bucky’s eyes widened.

“Shit. Somebody get us a bucket or somethin’, quick!”

Sam skated over to them with a bucket in his hands, concern spread on his face as he placed it down beside Jack who was now on his knees on the ice.

“What’s goin’ on?”

From behind Bucky, Jack retched into the bucket, hands gripping it tightly to stop it from sliding on the ice.

“That,” Bucky answered, glancing back at Jack. “You okay buddy?” he questioned.

Jack lifted his head up from the bucket, face pale, covered in sweat and etched with pain from the cramps in his stomach.

“Um, Bucky. He needs to go to the hospital…” Sam uttered.

Bucky nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, c’mon, let’s get him off the ice. I’ll drive him, you can stay here and make sure everyone isn’t laggin’ behind.”

Jack groaned weakly.

“I don’t need the hospital.”

“Jack you’re pale as a fuckin’ ghost and you’re throwin’ up,” Bucky replied.

“It’ll be a stomach bug or somethin’, I’ve dealt with it before. Just take me home.”

Sam sighed at some point while he and Bucky shared hushed whispers, despite Jack being _right_ there between the two of them. The rest of the team would skate past and ask if he was okay, either met with a weak wave or Jack throwing up into the bucket again. His throat burned and ached so badly that tears were brimming in the corners of his eyes, not to mention the cramps were making him hunch over further, making it difficult for Sam and Bucky to continue trying to get him off the ice. The chills never ceased, his sweater was on his shoulders, off, then back on again.

When they got to Bucky’s car, he had to take a new bucket that Sam offered him, placing it between his legs because his arms were too weak to hold the damn thing. His face screwed up as another wave of cramps hit him  in quick succession, followed by a low gurgle in his stomach. Jack knew _that_ was not a good sign and managed to fumble out of the car and run for the nearest bathroom that was halfway across the carpark. Bucky was calling his name, footsteps close behind, but in the back of his mind Jack knew Bucky probably figured out _why_ he was making a break for the toilets.

_He honestly wished the floor would just open up and swallow him whole._

* * *

Jack never wanted to eat at a restaurant that Johnson suggested ever again.

He made sure Johnson knew it too, through several pissed off text messages after trapping himself in his bathroom for over two hours now. It was only out of precaution, given the fact he’d missed grabbing the bucket in time, puking his guts up on the brand new rug in his bedroom. Plus, he wasn’t sure what his stomach was doing as it still hadn’t ceased cramping and gurgling for the entire journey home. Bucky offered to stay but Jack didn’t want to burden him by keeping him away from training. They had an important game in five days, Jack didn’t have time to be in such a compromised position, yet ‘ _shit happens’_ as a lot of people would say to him.

Jack stared down at his phone while he sat on the edge of the bathtub, his free hand resting on his forehead that still felt hot to the touch. Brock’s name was blinking on the screen when he scrolled through his contacts to find his number. He didn’t want to call him to break the bad news that their date wasn’t going to go ahead, but he knew he needed to. It wouldn’t be fair for Brock to show up to where they were meeting, only to be stood up by Jack because he was too much of an idiot to offer an explanation.

Brock seemed like a good person, they’d only talked through text and a few times on the phone. He even had the audacity to send Jack a picture of himself lying in bed, making it blatantly obvious that he was naked under the sheets. It was sent on the night that they’d won a home game, when they were out celebrating, the message attached being somewhat suggestive as well. Jack didn’t complain about it, Brock was an attractive guy, from the smug grin on his lips to the soft, messy tufts of hair on top of his head. He admired a confident person, they’d both been on this ride before and knowing there would be no limits to how they acted around each other put a sense of ease on Jack’s shoulders.

With a forlorn sigh, Jack swiped his thumb over the call icon and held the phone up to his ear. His heart rate quickened at the thought that the call could all go pear shaped, that he’d have to think of how to diffuse the situation, which was something he wasn’t prepared for. Part of him prayed that Brock was still working his shift, that he could just leave a brief, apologetic voicemail and hope for the best. His wish was not granted, as by the time the fourth and final ring of the dial tone came around, Brock answered.

_“Hey Jackie.”_

Jack slapped his hand on his forehead quietly at Brock’s greeting. It made him feel ten times worse that Brock was using the endearing nickname he’d grown so fond of.

“Hey…”

_“You called at the right time, I’m on a short break, with a stack of paperwork though. Fun.”_

He would have chuckled at the sarcasm in Brock’s tone if it weren’t for the lurch in his stomach.

_“Jack?”_

“Sorry...I-”

There was a long pause that fell between them, save for Brock’s steady breathing on the other end and the weird sounds in the pit of Jack’s stomach.

_“Are you alright?”_

“Brock...I need to cancel our date tonight.”

More silence taunts Jack, for a second he starts to panic, thinking Brock is either planning to yell at him or hang up the call right now. So it’s a relief when he hears Brock exhale softly, with obvious disappointment in his tone.

_“Oh…”_

_“I-I’m really sorry.”_

“No, it’s okay. Uh, can I ask why? I mean, you don’t needa’ tell me but it’s kinda’ sudden.”

Bile rose in his throat and Jack cursed under his breath, reaching for the bucket in front of him as he bowed his head.

“Can you just give me a second.”

He _tried_ to mask the fact that he was vomiting by holding the phone away from himself, drawing in a sharp breath when it was over, hands shaking slightly.

_“Jack! What the hell is goin’ on?”_

Jack put Brock on speakerphone as he reached for the damp towel beside him, dropping his head onto it to try and cool his face down, eliciting a muffled sigh.

“I think I have food poisoning.”

_“Really? Where did you eat last night?”_

“At a restaurant one of my friends told me about. It’s somethin’ we do every Sunday night.”

Brock clucked his tongue after letting out a soft sigh.

_“I’m sorry you're not feelin’ great babe. Was gettin’ excited for tonight.”_

“Yeah, me too. I’m so sorry.”

_“Don’t. It ain’t your fault you got food poisoning.”_

“Kinda’ feels like I’m lettin’ you down.”

_“Stop it, Jackie. These things happen.”_

Jack rubbed small circles on his temples, sensing the beginning of a headache that he didn’t want on top of all his other symptoms. Silence passed between both of them for a solid five minutes, save for the rustling of food wrappers on Brock’s end. He was contemplating on what to say next, unsure of what the right words were and unsure as to how Brock would want to conclude the conversation.

_“Why don’t I come over and stay the night?”_

“What?”

_“I don’t like the thought of leavin’ you in your house on your own when you’re not feelin’ great. My shift is over at six, I can go home, change, pack an overnight bag and stay with you.”_

“Don’t needa’ do that for me Brock.”

_“But I want to.”_

“Brock…”

_“C’mon. We won’t be goin’ on our date, but I still wanna’ see you. I can bring some things that’ll make you feel better.”_

The offer was tempting, too tempting for Jack to pass up. He thought about moping on the couch for the whole night, then about having Brock for company, the latter won, hands down.

“I’ll leave the door unlocked, you can just let yourself in.”

Brock hummed softly.

_“Send me your address?”_

“No way, can find your way here without it.”

Jack managed a grin at the laugh Brock let out.

_“Don’t be an idiot. I gotta’ get back to work.”_

“Okay, I’ll text you the address.”

_“Thanks, babe. I’ll see you at seven.”_

“You’re gross when you call me babe.”

_“Fuck you asshole. Don’t care if you’re sick, don’t gotta’ be rude.”_

“You love my ass!”

Brock scoffed.

 

_“I’ll judge when I see it in person. Pictures probably don’t do it justice.”_

Jack glanced at the clock.

“It’s only 3pm…”

_“Okay I know that you eat those fuckin’ disgusting saltine crackers and drink your weight in diluted fruit juice. So have some of that, in moderation, sip the juice and have small bites of the crackers, might help settle your stomach.”_

“You talkin’ shit about my saltine crackers?”

_“They taste like ass.”_

“I’m sure you know what that tastes like.”

Brock’s exasperated groan dragged on for awhile as Jack tried to stifle a chuckle. Talking to Brock was already making him feel somewhat better, not physically, but emotionally. It saved him having an abysmal night of feeling sorry for himself.

_“Fuck off Rollins, I bet your ass tastes nicer anyway.”_

Jack scrunched his nose.

“Ain’t got no filter do ya’?”

_“No. Maybe I can try though, to prove a point.”_

“Are we havin’ phone sex right now? While I’m nursin’ food poisoning. You fuckin’ animal.”

_“Rumlow! Quit chattin’ with your boyfriend, break time is over.”_

_“He ain’t my boyfriend yet Rogers!”_

Jack’s not sure whether Brock meant to cover the speaker on his phone, but he did a poor job regardless. Hearing Brock say that he wasn’t his boyfriend _yet_ made Jack’s heart stutter a little, because he’d never really thought of how far this would go with Brock. They’d only talked, sent pictures and occasionally helped each other jerk off through phone calls, yet there was the possibility that the connection they had now, wouldn’t be the same if they met. Though Jack was only over thinking, as he did from time to time, he needed to give it a chance first. For all he knew, it could be more than lust he felt for Brock when they meet, given the unfortunate circumstances.

_“Sorry, I really gotta’ go.”_

“I-that’s okay.”

 _God,_ he sounded like he did when he first called to tell Brock the date was off.

_“See ya’ later. Ciao bello.”_

Jack was _not_ swooning at the slip of Italian that Brock threw in.

“Bye.”

After hanging up, Jack moved off of the bathtub and to the sink where he splashed his face with cold water. He felt exhausted as he managed to wash out the bucket, then dry it so he could take it through to the lounge room with him. Jack went over to the door at the front of his house, left it unlocked for Brock to come through later and walked into the kitchen to grab saltine crackers and a bottle of fruit juice.

He got comfortable on the couch, brought up Netflix and settled on some British TV shows to pass the time until Brock got there. As he lay there, head sinking comfortably into a cushion, Jack felt his eyes droop slowly, the team song for _Fawlty Towers_ playing at a low volume. A nap sounded good to him, so Jack let his eyes fully close...exhaustion now taking control.

* * *

_"Hello, Fawlty Titties.”_

A tired laugh rumbled out of Jack as he brought his legs up onto the couch, tucking the blanket under his feet and propping his head upright on the pillows. He hadn’t slept as long as he wanted to, woken up for another half an hour of hugging the toilet. The saltine crackers sat open now, along with the fruit juice, which did help since he hadn’t been racing back to the bathroom for almost three hours. It was a few minutes past seven and the sound of a car pulling into his driveway drew Jack’s attention away from the TV.

Brock’s footsteps thumped up the short stairway to the porch, the faint sound of a bag rustled in the background when he reached for the door handle. Jack sat up slightly as the door swung open, revealing Brock standing in the doorway, a small smile spread across his face. He was dressed in dark stone washed jeans and a shirt with a jacket over the top, his hair still damp where a few strands decided to cling to his forehead. Jack did gawk at him for a moment, because in photos he was gorgeous, but in person he was something else entirely, to the point where Jack failed to tear his eyes away.

“Jeez, look at this, it’s pathetic.”

Jack frowned.

“Get the fuck out of my house if you’re gonna’ be a dick.”

“I’m jokin’ Jackie,” Brock chuckled. “You look like shit though.” he added.

“You’ve got bad bedside manners, are you like this with all your patients?”

Brock rolled his eyes.

“You’re not a patient.”

“You should be called Nurse Asshole, it suits you,” Jack retorted.

“Hey I can just leave Jackie, I don’t mind. You can lay there and feel sorry for yourself, I’ll go find someone else to spend my time with,” Brock taunted, smirking at the unamused look on Jack’s face.

“No, stay,” he muttered.

Brock narrowed his eyes.

“What are you starin’ at?”

Jack tilted his head back.

“You’re gorgeous, that’s all.”

“Ugh, ya’ big sap Jackie,” Brock groaned.

“I mean it! Pictures are great, but you’re better in physical form.”

“Shoulda’ warned me you were sexier in person. Shame you’re sick,” he hummed, poking his tongue out from between his teeth.

“Don’t tease me,” Jack complained.

The grin on Brock’s face widened as he placed the plastic bag on the coffee table, his overnight bag placed beside his shoes that he left at the door. He leant down to press a kiss to Jack’s forehead, combing his fingers through tousled strands of hair, before pushing them aside.

“How are you feelin’ though?”

Jack shrugged.

“Been better.”

“Throwin’ up still?” Brock asked.

“Not as much, been about three hours now.”

Brock nodded then reached for the bag on the coffee table, pulling out a small box and a bottle of water. He popped two pills out of the packet for Jack and handed him the bottle of water, earning a raised eyebrow from Jack.

“What’re these?” he questioned, taking the pills from Brock.

“Pepto-Bismol. It’ll help for your stomach.”

“Bring me anythin’ else that’ll make me feel better?” Jack chided, before downing the pills.

“Myself.”

Jack’s eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed.

“Smartass.”

“I brought tea, and some sports drinks because they’ll keep you hydrated with electrolytes. Uh, I got you some bananas and jelly.” Brock stated.

“Jelly? What am I, a kid?”

“Everyone loves jelly!” he argued.

“I was thinkin’ of another jelly.” Jack intoned.

Brock’s brows knitted together.

“Are you talkin’ about fuckin’ KY jelly?”

Jack glanced at Brock with a smirk.

“You’re terrible,” Brock laughed.

“You laughed.”

“Quit it. I brought you some soup I made, it’s my nonna’s recipe,” he said, turning his attention back to the bag.

“Brock, you really didn’t have to,” Jack replied.

“I know, but I don’t want you feelin’ like shit.”

“Startin’ to feel a little less shit with you here,” he added.

Brock shrugged his jacket off and placed it over the back of the couch, before putting his hand back on Jack’s forehead, smoothing his thumb over his temple.

“I gotta’ make a quick call okay?”

Jack nodded slowly.

“Sure.”

“Have some of the soup if you’re hungry,” Brock chimed.

“Thanks, I’m starving.”

With a shake of his head in pure amusement, Brock stood up from the couch then made his way over to his bag. Jack watched him with curiosity while opening the tub of soup, picking up the spoon that Brock had packed in beside it, before leaning back on the couch.

“Hey Rogers. Yeah, yeah I know I’m interruptin’ your date night in with your husband. But I wanted to run somethin’ by you,” Brock spoke.

Jack raised an eyebrow at Brock.

“It’s to do with Jack. He’s got food poisoning, I just wanted to check some things with you ‘cause I dunno’ if he should be at the hospital or not.”

Brock walked back over to Jack with a thermometer in his hand, along with an apologetic look on his face. Jack mouthed a _‘what the fuck?’_ at him and Brock could only look at him while mouthing back an _‘I’m sorry’,_ prompting Jack to huff and open his mouth for the thermometer to be placed under his tongue.

“I’m checkin’ his temp now! You’re fuckin’ bossy when you’re mad.”

Jack continued to glare at Brock, whose hand was back on his forehead again.

“He’s warm, but he ain’t burnin’ up.”

The thermometer beeped exactly like Jack’s microwave and he had to suppress a snort.

“It’s a little high...no he hasn’t thrown up in three hours he told me.”

Jack wanted to roll his eyes, but he couldn’t blame Brock for doing his job.

“I told him to have saltine crackers and fruit juice. And I brought him some sports drinks, soup, Pepto-Bismol and bananas,” Brock explained.

He had a small smile on his face, in a way, it was _disgustingly_ cute to Jack.

“Yeah I’m stayin’ the night with him. No, fuck you Rogers it’s nothin’ like that! I will tape all of your pens to the ceiling at work!”

Jack snickered to himself as he took a mouthful of soup, moaning low in his throat at the taste. At least, he thought he was being quiet.

“No! He’s eatin’ soup that wasn’t me that made him moan!”

“Not yet,” Jack snarked.

Brock gave his foot a gentle kick.

“Uh huh, enjoy your fuckin’ date night asshole,” he grumbled.

Jack looked up from his soup once Brock ended the call, letting his eyes roam for a minute when Brock stretched his arms above his head. His shirt rode up, exposing bare skin and his navel, prompting Jack to let out a disgruntled grunt. Brock smirked smugly, dropped his arms to his side and sat back down on the couch beside Jack. He pulled Jack’s feet up onto his lap with ease, thumb pressing into the heel of Jack’s foot with delicate pressure, his index and middle finger running up the curve of the socked foot. Jack sighed contently, leaning back to enjoy the soup, along with the foot massage on the side.

“So good news is you can recover at home. Rogers said if I just keep an eye on your temperature, you should be fine. You gotta’ keep your fluids up though, then take more Pepto before bed.”

“Thank you,” Jack hummed, toes wiggling under Brock’s featherlight touch.

“Anythin’ for you Jackie.”

“I kinda’ like this relaxed Brock,” he commented.

Brock let out a small chuckle, eyebrows raising as he did so when his head bobbed up in time with the chuckle.

“Well this is what you get when I’m not at work. Wasn’t nervous or anythin’ about meetin’ ya Jackie. Figured since we were so comfortable with each other through texts and phone calls we’d settle into this straight away. Guess I was right,” he replied.

Jack watched Brock open his mouth to speak again, only to see him close his mouth again, jaw clenched tight after swallowing thickly. He knew what Brock was thinking, by his body language, as if contemplating on whether he should speak about what he was going to say.

“Have you lost a lot of people?”

“I-” Brock paused.

“Brock.”

Brock’s hands stilled on Jack’s feet, eyes staring down at the coffee table as a choked wince sounded from his throat.

“A lot. Doesn’t get easier, I wish I could save ‘em all.”

Jack’s hand found Brock’s to hold it in a comforting grip.

“There was one today...she was _six_ years old, Jack. I had to tell her parents and I know it’s part of my job. But it doesn’t get easier. I always feel like I should’ve done more.”

“You did all you could Brock. It can’t always end in you savin’ everyone. Sometimes this happens…” Jack said.

“But she was just a kid…”

The corners of Brock’s eyes welled up with tears that he quickly wiped away, before letting out a hoarse cough to cover a sob. Jack placed his soup to the side, legs swinging off of Brock’s lap so that he could draw Brock into his arms, with Brock’s arms loosely wrapped around his waist.

“Hey hey. You can talk to me ‘bout this stuff, it’s alright, ” he soothed, rubbing Brock’s back.

“I’m a damn mess, look at me Jackie,” Brock joked, lightheartedly.

Jack chuckled and touched his lips to Brock’s forehead, leaving them still as he closed his eyes, while continuing to press several kisses there, his fingers still stroking Brock’s back. Brock squeezed his arms tighter around Jack’s waist, sighing contently, before leaning in to indulge in the affection.

“You’re an affectionate big idiot ain’t ya,” he added.

“Thought I warned you about that.”

Brock scoffed.

“I think I can get used to it.”

“You better,” Jack muttered.

“Stubborn.”

Jack’s fingers stroked the back of Brock’s neck, enjoying the silence between themselves while the TV still played in the background. Brock eventually tilted his head up and let his lips brush Jack’s cheek.

“Hey,” he whispered, before earning Jack’s attention.

“Yeah?”

“You wanna’ watch _House Hunters_? It’s on soon, actually-” Brock paused to stare at his watch. “...in five minutes,” he continued.

“Are you kiddin’ me right now?”

Brock let out an annoyed grunt.

“I’m serious! I love that show.”

Jack pulled back to look at Brock, his eyebrows raised.

“Quit judgin’ me.”

“I’m not! I like that show too, _really_ like it,” Jack admitted.

He received a skeptical glance in return from Brock, eyes narrowed and unmoving.

“I don’t believe you,” Brock muttered.

“Look, I have the series on record!” he exclaimed, pointing at the TV.

Brock slid his arms around Jack’s neck.

“I’m learnin’ too much about ya’ Jackie.”

Jack leaned in a little.

“That’s not a bad thing.”

“Yeah,” Brock replied, pushing himself off the couch and walking to the kitchen. “And next thing you know you’re gonna’ be on one knee askin’ me to marry ya’,” he added.

“Can be arranged if you really want that.”

Brock fell silent.

“You want some more soup, and a drink?”

“Don’t change the subject,” Jack snickered, head tilting back against the back of the couch.

“We’ll see where _this_ goes first, Romeo.”

Jack’s mouth stretched into a coy smile.

“Sure thing, Juliet.”

“Fuck off,” Brock chided.

After setting down another bowl of soup, two cold drinks and bread, Brock tossed a blanket over his shoulders, then sat down. He held one side of the blanket out towards Jack, who took it gratefully, sneakily kissing Brock on the cheek. Brock’s nose scrunched up as he playfully shoved Jack, while scooting in closer to him, his arm finding it’s way around Jack’s waist.

“You giant dope,” he sighed, contently.

“Mhm, I know,” Jack hummed.

The pair got comfortable on the couch, as well as in each other’s company, before soon settling in for a night of relaxation and bickering over reality television.

* * *

“What'd I miss?”

Jack peered over at Brock sauntering out from the hallway, buckling his belt back up, eyes locked to the TV screen. It looked a little too erotic to him. _Bastard_ he thought.

“They picked a house.”

“Which one?” Brock asked.

“The small house.”

“What? Seriously, after they said they wanted a spacious house,” he groused.

“That condo we liked, they said it wasn't to their _tastes,_ ” Jack replied.

Brock childishly blew a raspberry.

“ _Boo._ They wouldn't know what taste was if it hit ‘em in the face.”

Jack laughed fondly.

“Say if we moved in together, would you want a condo or a house?”

“Jack,” Brock groaned, as he leant on the couch.

“C’mon, it’s just an interestin’ question to ask. I'm not suggestin’ we do it.”

He watched Brock walk around the couch, before sitting down, his hand patting his leg. Jack lay his head back down on Brock's lap like he had when they were watching _House Hunters,_ Brock's fingers coming up to stroke through his hair.

“I’d go with a condo to start with. Then I'd think ‘bout a house, so there's room for a dog, or two.”

“Kids?” Jack questioned.

“Eventually. But I'm thinkin’ too far ahead now.”

“That's fair,” he said.

“Gotta’ say...I love your curiosity, Jackie,” Brock commented.

Jack glanced up at Brock.

“You do?”

“I do. It's different,” he answered.

“Can I ask you somethin’ else then?”

Brock nodded.

“Earlier you said that we'll see where this goes first. What exactly is... _this?_ ” Jack queried.

“Think it's fair to say we’re datin’ now Jack. This is our first time bein’ in physical contact instead of over the phone, but I feel like we’re easin’ into it easily. Might as well call it was it is.”

“I think we've gotta’ make it official,” he murmured, reaching for his phone on the coffee table.

“That bein’?” Brock drawled.

He snorted when he saw Jack opening Facebook.

“What?”

“Nothin’. We’re just really doin’ it this way huh?” he teased.

“My parents are put down as married on this, it isn't just for the young ones, Brock.”

Brock's hand stilled when his phone vibrated on the coffee table, which Jack handed to him with an amused smile. He opened the notification to a request to change from single to _in a relationship with Jack Rollins._

“Aw, cute.”

“Don't be a dick,” Jack scolded.

“My parents are gonna’ be callin’ me up about this.”

“Yeah, pretty sure mine will too, but we’ll deal with that in the mornin’,” he sighed.

Brock yawned loudly.

“What time is it?”

Jack blinked at the bright screen on his phone.

“Almost midnight.”

“I dunno’ ‘bout you gorgeous , but I’m tired,” Brock breathed out.

“Ew, givin’ me nicknames now.”

“Bet you love it,” he retorted.

“Sure thing honey badger,” Jack said.

Brock scowled at Jack.

“What the fuck? Honey badger? Really!”

“Sorry sweetpea,” he soothed, with a smirk.

“I don't like you right now Jackie boy.”

Jack's shoulders shook as he broke down into fits of laughter.

“Your face is priceless!”

“Uh huh, laugh it up asshole. C’mon let's go to bed. Up,” Brock ordered.

“And you come back swingin’ with the rude nicknames.”

“I mean it in an affectionate way,” he huffed.

“Dick,” Jack sniped.

Brock grinned and took Jack's hand, hoisting him up to his feet.

“ _Mhm_ don't wear it out, baby.”

Jack could only smile tiredly, following close behind Brock while they walked to the hallway, flicking light switches off as they went. He wrapped his arm around Brock to pull him close to his side, directing him to where the bedroom was. Brock opened the door with a gentle kick of his foot, leading Jack in first, his hand rubbing up and down Jack’s back soothingly.

“You need anymore Pepto or do you think you’ll be fine?”

He got a shake of the head from Jack, watching him sit on the edge of the bed.

“I think I’ll be okay.”

“Alright. I’ll see you in the mornin’ yeah?” Brock replied, turning back to the door.

“What? Where are you goin’?”

“Uh, to sleep on the couch,” he said.

“Piss off Brock, you’re sleepin’ in here with me,” Jack uttered.

Brock turned around.

“You sure?”

“I think with some of the things we’ve done since we started talkin’, sharin’ a bed together is nothin’ compared to that,” he explained.

“Ah, shit, I just remembered I didn’t pack anythin’ for bed.”

Jack shrugged and slowly pulled his shirt up over his head.

“Sleep in your underwear.”

“Fine,” Brock huffed out.

Brock ambled over to the other side of the bed, belt unbuckled as his jeans slid down to the floor. Jack glanced over his shoulder, eyes roaming up and down Brock, who shucked his shirt off in one swift movement, tossing it to the side, carelessly. He caught Jack staring and smirked, his eyes lingering on Jack for a moment.

“See somethin’ you like Jackie?”

Jack emitted a small snort.

“Maybe.”

Brock hummed approvingly, before kneeling on the bed.

“Good, ‘cause I see somethin’ I like too.”  

“I bet,” Jack responded.

Soft lips pressed against his shoulder, causing him to inhale a sharp intake of breath.

“Did you have to do that?” he hissed.

“Yeah, I had to.”

Jack muttered under his breath.

“Fuckin’ tease.”

Brock dragged the sheets back to shift under them, with Jack following not too far behind him. They faced each other after laying down, sheets tucked under their arms, fingers entwining when their hands met in the middle. Jack gave Brock's hand a tender squeeze, green eyes staring back at copper brown ones, blinking wearily as exhaustion came knocking again. Brock lifted his hand to brush back some hair from Jack's face, thumb caressing his cheekbone, then down to the scar on his chin.

“Why haven't you kissed me yet?”

“Huh?” Brock mumbled.

“Been here all night and you're not gonna’ kiss me?”

“Ain't gonna’ kiss ya’ Jackie,” he drawled.

Jack appeared seemingly disappointed.

“You're sick, I'm not wastin’ a kiss when you're feelin’ shitty.”

“Kissin’ me might make it better,” Jack suggested.

“Another time, Jack.”

“Hm, you won't,” he grumbled.

“I will. Just no tellin’ you when,” Brock rebuked.

Yawning sleepily, Jack rolled onto his side, putting his back to Brock, whose eyes widened a fraction. He shuffled closer to Jack, arm sliding over his hip and his chin perched on Jack's shoulder.

“What're ya’ doin’?”

Jack inhaled, then exhaled deeply.

“I like to be the little spoon when I'm sick.”

A hearty chuckle from Brock followed after.

“Okay, I'll be the big spoon then you softie.”

“And I like to listen to music too, helps me sleep,” Jack chimed, stretching his arm out to put his record player on.

“ _Pink Floyd,_ nice.”

Brock and Jack fell into a peaceful silence, Brock's hand resting on Jack's hip, chest flush on his warm back. Jack eyes opened to stare out of the window, moonlight shining down on the trees and seeping into his bedroom. He felt himself relax to the subtle harmony of _Shine On You  Crazy Diamond,_ and Brock’s comforting closeness.

“Brock?”

“Hm?” Brock hummed, eyes still closed as he kept stroking Jack’s hip.

“Thanks for bein’ here.”

Brock’s mouthed twitched up at the corner, holding onto Jack's hand when it was offered to him.

“Babe...I’m here whenever you want me.”

* * *

The scoreboard stared back at Jack with spite. They’re three points down from the lead, the Brooklyn Wolves against the Boston Pumas and Jack was beginning to feel the pressure. Second period finished in just under a minute, though the clock had stopped ticking because Johnson had to be taken off the ice from an injury, and their coach wanted to relay a new strategy to them. Jack stared out at his teammates aimlessly skating around, waiting on their opposition to come back, they looked about as stressed as he was. It was when he watched Bucky skate over, that he eventually pulled himself out of his thoughts.

“Hey,” Bucky greeted.

“Hey Bucky.”

“We’re gettin’ our asses kicked, Jack,” he sighed.

“I’m not givin’ up yet, we’ve worked too hard to lose another chance at qualifying.”

Bucky clapped his gloved hand down Jack’s shoulder.

“You’re losin’ yourself a little out here. What’s up?”

“I was hopin’ Brock would be here,” Jack replied.

“I haven’t seen him in the crowd yet.”

Jack shook his head.

“Probably caught up at work, it’s fine. Just need to see him to get my head back in it.”

“It went that well huh?” the brunette asked.

“He’s amazin’ Bucky, you gotta’ meet him.”

Bucky smiled sympathetically.

“There’s still a chance he’ll be here.”

Cheers from the crowd started to erupt as the Boston Pumas arrived back on the ice, Jack had been surprised when there was such an equal presence of fans for both teams. He exhaled deeply and gripped his stick tightly, following close behind Bucky to gather up his team. If there was one thing about being captain, it was the intense euphoria of playing hockey, and sharing the experience with his friends. He was glad to be playing, even after all the trouble with food poisoning.

“Doin’ okay man?” Sam questioned, sidling up to Jack.

Jack’s mouth curved up as he nodded.

“I’ll be fine.”

As Jack glided across the ice, he turned to glance into the crowd again before the game commenced. He suddenly stopped in his tracks, looking into the swarm of faces, but only focusing on one. Brock smiled widely, before waving at him, wrapped warmly in a Wolves scarf and a jersey...with Jack’s number on it. Jack went to wave back at him, only to have Bucky lightly jab him in the ribs, nodding his head in the direction of the face-off.

“Told ya’.”

“Shut up,” Jack chuckled, nudging Bucky slightly.

Now with Brock’s beaming smile set fresh in his mind, confidence washed over Jack in that moment. _We can do this_ he thought. His hips shook slowly from side to side, before stealing a glance at Brock, who covered his mouth with his hand to hide a laugh

“This is yours Jack,” Bucky whispered.

Jack nodded and got in position to skate forward and be ready for the puck, drowning out any other sound around him to listen to his breathing. The referee’s whistle blew loudly, signaling the remainder of the second period, tilting up the fans to cheer and clap for their respective teams. Bucky swiftly moved in front of Jack, clearing a path as he surged for the puck that Steve gained at the face-off. Jack went wide, circling around two Pumas players, before sliding to the right side of Bucky. He could hear commentators mixing in with the shouts, the excitement clear in their voices.

_“Rollins has the puck.”_

The goal still seemed so far away, Jack could hear his opponents gaining on him, skates scratching off the ice. It was now or never.

_“He's going for it!”_

Jack swung the stick back, before bringing it back, whacking the puck across the ice, praying it shot straight into the goal.

_“Shoots!”_

With a heavy _thwack,_ the puck barrelled into the net, straight between the legs of the goalie, too slow in his reaction time to save it.

_“Scores!”_

“Yes! Come on!” Jack screamed triumphantly, fist pumping the air.

The crowd went _wild._

“That's what I'm talkin’ about!” Sam shouted, as he swung his arm around Jack.

Bucky threw himself at Jack when he approached him to celebrate, just in time for the buzzer to sound out, ending the second period. More of Jack's team hurried over to congratulate him, almost throwing him off balance at the mass of bodies that crashed into him.

“More of those and we can win this damn thing!” Clint exclaimed, happily.

Jack grinned.

“We’ll try. C’mon guys, let's go make the most of this break before we come back for the final period.”

They made their way over to the tunnel that led into the locker rooms, Wolves fans clapping and congratulating them as they went. Jack smiled at their fans while waiting for his team to keep moving in an orderly fashion, lightly tapping Bucky on the back with his stick. The brunette snorted and swatted at Jack, before walking forward.

“Jack!”

A hand quickly grasped his arm, startling Jack as he turned his head, only to relax when he saw Brock standing in the crowd. He stepped to the side to let Tony and Rhodey pass, giving all of his attention to Brock, feeling relieved to talk to him. Jack shook his gloves off to rest them on Brock’s waist, heart still beating rapidly from the adrenaline.

“Hey! You made it.”

Brock grinned sheepishly.

“Got somethin’ for ya’.”

Jack stared back at Brock with a confused expression on his face, unaware of where Brock’s hand had moved to. He wasn’t prepared for Brock to lean in, covering Jack’s mouth with his own, surprising him with a passionate kiss. His lips were warm against Jack’s cold ones, and tender like a caress of hands on soft skin. Jack felt the overwhelming sensation of elation, drawing Brock closer by tugging on the belt loops of his jeans, while deepening the kiss.

Eventually, they pulled away, breathing heavily as Brock pressed his forehead on Jack’s, fingers lazily dragging through his hair. His thumb ran across Jack’s bottom lip, down to the scar on his chin and coming to rest on his jaw. Jack felt himself being pulled further towards Brock, his face becoming nestled into the crook of Brock’s neck, his own arms holding tighter around Brock’s waist. He breathed in the smell of Brock’s cologne, then pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, one hand sliding up to cup the back of Brock’s neck.

“Told ya’ I wasn’t gonna’ waste that kiss,” Brock whispered.

“Get over here,” Jack chuckled.

He lifted Brock over the barrier with ease, still hugging him close while Brock elicited a hearty laugh. Jack tilted his head down to kiss Brock again, for only a brief minute, after realising that the team would be waiting for him. Except for Bucky and Sam, who were still standing at the end of the tunnel, poking their heads around the corner.

“That’s my boy!” Bucky called.

Sam whistled at them and Brock shook his head with a smirk.

“You should go.”

Jack snaked his arm around Brock’s waist.

“You’re comin’ with me. The guys wanna’ meet ya’.”

Brock questioned Jack silently.

“I can meet ‘em after the game. Go on, I ain’t leavin’, just...kick some ass in the third period.”

“I can do that,” Jack said, with a coy grin.

They met for a final kiss, stirring several cheers and whistles from the crowd that could see them from the other side of the rink. Brock lightly shoved Jack away, smiling so wide that his eyes crinkled at the corners, earning him an affectionate look from Jack.

“Hey Jackie!” he called, as Jack turned to go to the locker room.

Jack looked back at Brock.

“Yeah?”

Brock bit down on his bottom lip, with his hands slipping into his pockets.

“I’m proud of you.”

Now Jack _really_ wanted to win.

* * *

_“Rollins has the puck!”_

_“This could be the Wolves game!”_

Brock watched from his seat in the middle row, his hand gripping Natasha’s strongly, but she didn’t seem to mind, too busy focusing on Clint. Steve was also there with them, hand squeezing on Brock’s shoulder while he watched Bucky play.

“Come on Jack.”

_“He comes up to the goal!”_

People around Brock yelled at the top of their lungs, as Jack took the shot from a different angle than his last.

_“He shoots!”_

Brock watched the puck fly across the ice and smack into the net from the right side, despite the goalies best efforts.

_“He scores!”_

The noise is deafening, between the crowd and the buzzer for the end of the game sounding out, Brock couldn’t even hear his own voice. Natasha threw her arms around him in a hug, happily cheering along with him as he watched the pile up of bodies surrounding Jack.

_“Brooklyn Wolves take the win!”_

Through the swarm of his teammates, Jack put his attention on Brock, the happy look on his face making Jack’s heart warm in his chest. He couldn’t believe they’d done it, they won, but also couldn't believe he got to share that with Brock.

_Jack held his head high, savouring the celebrations around him...and allowed himself to cry._

**Author's Note:**

> As always I'm on tumblr at [x-crossbones-x](http://x-crossbones-x.tumblr.com/)


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